


257 Reasons Why

by Remy_Writes5



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, John is fed up, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mrs. Hudson is wise, Sherlock is clueless, Smut, happy endings, proposal fic, relationship troubles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-09
Updated: 2012-05-09
Packaged: 2017-11-05 02:20:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remy_Writes5/pseuds/Remy_Writes5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock's relationship is in trouble and Sherlock has a solution. John is apprehensive so Sherlock makes a list to convince him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not Enough

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [257 Raisons](https://archiveofourown.org/works/868747) by [Hanako_Hayashi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanako_Hayashi/pseuds/Hanako_Hayashi)



Sherlock had been waiting for this. He'd always assumed John had one foot out the door, ready to leave, ready to make a life with someone else. Not Sherlock, never Sherlock. He should let him go, he knew this, he'd always known this. John deserved more and now he was going to get it.

That didn't mean he was going to though, he couldn't just let him leave. His bags were already packed, everything he owned neatly sorted away into two suitcases. It should have been more than that. They had a life together there at Baker Street. How does a whole life fit into two suitcases?

Sherlock was on his feet before John even reached the door, closing the distance between them. "John." It comes out like a broken prayer.

"Sherlock, please." John sighed heavily, looking exhausted. He thinks Sherlock is going to put up a fight. Too much fighting already. The cause of all this. No, not true. Sherlock is the cause. He was always the cause.

"Don't." Sherlock begged, placing his hand on the door to keep John in, to keep John with him. They were happy here. Why can't they be happy here now?

"Sherlock, if you don't get your bloody hand off of this door –"

"You'll what?" Sherlock challenged. Anger was good. Anger wasn't indifference. Sherlock could deal with anger.

"Don't push me Sherlock." John said through gritted teeth.

Except Sherlock does exactly that, shoving John against the door, grabbing his face and kissing him deeply. He moved his hands down and secured them around John's wrists' holding them on either side of his face.

John tilted his face away, breaking the kiss. "Sherlock, let me go now." John spits out angrily.

"No." Sherlock responded, kissing along John's jaw and burying his face against his neck. "I can't."

"Sherlock." John said gently, caring, affection. He still cared. Sherlock let go of John's wrists, elated by this fact and John fisted both hands into the back of Sherlock's expensive silk shirt.

"Please." Sherlock whispered, feeling the full extent of his desperation.

John put his finger under Sherlock's chin and lifted his face, his lips finding his. Sherlock felt as though he could drown in it, lost in the sensations of John's tongue teasing his. It was too much; it was not enough. Clothes. Too many clothes. Sherlock tugged at the bottom of John's jumper, too thick, too much. Hiding him, hiding John. Mustn't be hidden away. Not from him. Not from Sherlock. Never from him.

Getting the idea, John broke the kiss so Sherlock could pull it up over his head in one swift movement. Their lips came together again as John's hands fumbled with trying to unbutton Sherlock's shirt. Sherlock's hands pressed against John's bare chest, feeling the warmth radiating off him. Alive. Here. John.  _Mine._

John finally got Sherlock's shirt unbuttoned and slipped it off his shoulders. It fell to the floor gracefully while John ducked his head and kissed along Sherlock's chest. He flicked his tongue against one nipple, rolling the other between his thumb and finger, causing Sherlock's head to drop back as he moaned John's name.

Not enough, not enough. Sherlock grabbed the belt-loops of John's jeans and pulled him closer, pressing his hips against John's. John pulled away from Sherlock's nipple to attack his throat, kissing and biting and claiming. Yes, yes, yes.

Sherlock's fingers felt along the waistband of John's jeans until he found the zip, tearing it open. Heat. He could feel the heat of John's arousal. Needed to touch it. He slipped his fingers into John's underwear to curl his fingers around him, making John gasp. Still not enough. Mouth. Need to taste. Sherlock pulled away and dropped to his knees, tugging John's trousers and pants down.

Beautiful. Gorgeous. Hard.  _Mine._ Sherlock growled before taking John into his mouth, feeling the hot flesh against his tongue. Hearing John saying his name above him.  _Yes, lips. You always like my lips. Said they were prefect. I can be perfect. Let me show you,_ Sherlock thought, sucking John off exactly how he liked. He bobbed his head back and forth, taking John as deep as possible, watching John's eyes flutter closed. He brought his hand up to cup John's balls, rolling them against his palm.

"Sherlock!" John yelled, frantically trying to tug him off by his hair. Reluctantly, Sherlock complied and pulled off with a wet sounding pop. He placed kisses along the inside of John's thighs.

"John." Sherlock glanced up at him through heavy-lidded eyes before burying his face in the nest of hair, inhaling the purest scent of John, the intoxicating aroma of his arousal. He kissed his way up the shaft then flicked his tongue against the tip.

"Come here." John requested, tugging on Sherlock's arm. Sherlock got to his feet, pressing his lips firmly against John's. He undid his own belt and zip, pushing his trousers down. The first contact of hot skin on skin was like an electrical current pulsing through Sherlock's entire body.

"Fuck me John." Sherlock begged, grinding his erection against John's stomach, feeling John's pressed against his thigh.

"Yes." John swallowed hard and Sherlock watched his adam's apple bob. He ducked his head down and licked it, tasting John's salty skin. Need to get closer, meld into one so John can't leave. He can never leave. Can't live without him. Need him. Necessary. Necessary for work. Vital. Vital to happiness. Vital for everything.

Sherlock kicked off his trousers and got on the floor on his hands and knees. John knelt behind him and started kissing along his spine. When he reached the small of his back, he kept going, further and further down. He licked one long stripe from Sherlock's perineum to his hole. He curled his tongue and dipped it in and out of Sherlock's entrance, making him gasp.

He reached up and spread Sherlock's cheeks before plunging his tongue in. Sherlock bucked in surprise, his head snapping back as he groaned. He started pushing back against the probing muscle inside him, feeling John's tongue working him open. "John. Oh God. John, John, John." Sherlock chanted his name as John's tongue pressed further inside him. "Fuck me." Sherlock moaned desperately. "John, fuck me."

With a few more swirls of his tongue, John pulled out. He grabbed the lube off his desk and slipped two fingers in easy. Sherlock rocked back against them, needing more, needing them to go deeper, needing John. His thumb rubbed along the perineum as the two fingers scissored inside him, stretching him. "John please." Sherlock cried out, dropping his head down onto his forearms.

John ignored him and slipped a third finger in, pumping them roughly, pushing them as deep as possible and then spreading them. Sherlock whimpered and pushed back again, impaling himself on John's blunt fingers. John crooked them, stroking and teasing Sherlock's prostate, making him writhe against the floor. "John." Sherlock said in a broken sob, needing John to fuck him.

John finally slipped his fingers out and Sherlock closed his eyes. He felt John grip his hips and started rubbing his erection along the cleft of Sherlock's arse. "No John please. No more teasing. Fuck me." Sherlock begged, beyond ready.

He felt John line up and then the head was breaching him, pushing past the ring of muscles until it was in. Sherlock groaned and pushed his fingers into the carpet. "More." He said, face half buried against his arm. "More John, please."

John took his time, inching into Sherlock slowly, until Sherlock could feel John's hips pressed up against him. John pulled almost all the way out and then shoved back into Sherlock roughly. "Oh God." Sherlock gasped, clawing at the floor. John did it again and Sherlock felt like he was falling. He must be falling. End over end into an abyss, tumbling uncontrollably. John would catch him, John would always catch him. But John was leaving, this could very well be the last time. What was he supposed to do?

_You're Impossible._ Sherlock heard the words echoing in his brain, the one's Victor had spoken when he'd ended things.

_You think I'm in love with you? Who could ever love you the way you are? You're like a child._ Sebastian's words followed Victor's and Sherlock shut his eyes tighter. They were right. He was unlovable. But John was different. John was supposed to be different. Yet John was leaving.

_You drive me bloody insane! We're in a relationship Sherlock. You can't just disappear inside your head every time I do something you don't like. You have to talk to me._

He couldn't. He couldn't just talk. All the emotion, all that feeling. Not his area.

_You machine._

He wasn't though, was he? If he were a machine, this wouldn't hurt so much.

_Talk to me, for god's sake._

"John, please!" Sherlock shouted, unsure what he was asking for. John gripped his hips tight enough to leave bruises and started thrusting in harder, deeper, faster, yes, yes ,yes.  _Mark me. If this is the last time, I want everyone to know I once belonged to you._

"Sherlock." John moaned, plastering his front against Sherlock's back and he slammed into him endlessly. He licked his way up Sherlock's spine, making Sherlock groan. John's forehead rested against his back, the small contact making his skin thrum with excitement. John was here, now. He was still here, for now. Won't be soon. Still is now.  _Contentrate on that_.

"John, John, John."

"Oh God, Sherlock."

"John please, don't go. Stay with me. I can be better. I can be more. I need you. I won't survive. Please John. I love you, please."

"Sherlock, fuck. Sherlock." John reached around and started wanking Sherlock. The moment he felt John touch his prick, he was coming undone, coming and coming harder than ever before, screaming John's name as if it were the only word in the English language. John pushed deep and followed him, emptying inside him with a few final thrusts. The world dissolved away to just that small point of contact, John's cock inside him and his forehead on Sherlock's back. Still there. For now.

John pulled out gently and collapsed on the floor. Sherlock waited a few moments and then crawled over, forming his body against John's with his head on John's chest. "Are you still going to leave?" Sherlock asked quietly.

"Christ." John swore, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I honestly don't know. You're unbelievably frustrating sometimes, do you know that?"

"I've been told." Sherlock shrugged, making lazy patterns over John's skin with his finger.

"You make it so difficult to love you." John let out a frustrated huff of breath.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, it's how you are. I just have the misfortune of being the idiot who fell in love with you."

"I don't want you to be unhappy."

"I'm not, most days. It's just some days you drive me up the wall. Sometimes I'm afraid I might hurt you either by saying something or hitting you."

"I can hold my own."

"I don't want to hurt you Sherlock. That's the problem. I'm terrified I might do something, something worse than leaving."

"Nothing could be worse than that." Sherlock reached up and laced his fingers through John'. "So say anything you need to, do whatever you need to, as long as you're here when it's all over."

"I don't know if that's the solution Sherlock."

"Please, just don't go." Sherlock threw his arm over John possessively. John was unsure and Sherlock needed him to know for certain. He couldn't go through this again in a few more months. He needed John by his side always, always close, always there. He needed it to be unconditional and unbreakable. So Sherlock turned towards John and asked the only four words that came to mind. The solution to all their problems.

"Will you marry me?"


	2. The List

John sat up instantly and Sherlock had to catch himself before his face smacked against the floor. "Are you serious?" John asked, twisting so he was facing Sherlock, who was sated and happy looking after his orgasm.

"Of course I am, why would I joke about something like this?" Sherlock asked, stretching out his long limbs, distracting John for a moment.

"You want to get married." John shook his head incredulously. "You're insane."

"It's the perfect solution to our problems." Sherlock propped himself up on his elbows and watched as John tugged on his jeans and started to pace around the sitting room.

"What?" John stopped and stared down at him for a moment. "What exactly does getting married solve? All it does is make it harder for us to end this if something actually does go wrong."

"Why would something go wrong?" Sherlock asked, worried about what John was implying.

"God Sherlock, I was two seconds away from walking out the door. The only reason I'm not crashing on Mike Stamford's sofa right now is because you – you – well you know, you were there." John actually blushed and Sherlock found it unbelievably endearing. "Now you think the best course of action is to get married. For Christ's sake Sherlock, it's so soon after sex that I don't even know if this is just the post-coital bliss talking."

"I can assure that I'm perfectly lucid." Sherlock replied, slightly insulted that an orgasm would make someone as clever as him turn into an idiot.

"You don't just propose marriage after something like that."

"We've been together three years. Isn't it the logical progression of a relationship?"

"No, yes. I mean you don't ask someone to marry you just so they won't leave or in a sad attempt to fix all your problems. You get married because you want to, because you're ready to. It's about making a commitment to each other."

"Yes, so? I'm well aware of what marriage entails."

"Are you Sherlock? Because so far it doesn't seem like it." John reached down and snatched his shirt up off the floor.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked as John put his shirt on and grabbed his coat. The panic started to rise inside him as John headed for the door.

"Pub, I need a drink." John replied as he slipped on his jacket.

"There's beer in the fridge." Sherlock informed him as his heart started racing and he felt as if the room were spinning.

"I need a drink that involves not being here." John shot back, slamming the door a bit when he left. Sherlock felt shaken to his core, the only comforting thing being that John had left his suitcases. He pulled his knees to his chest and sat in the middle of the floor, somewhat deflated.

"Yoohoo." Mrs. Hudson called out, knocking on their door before stepping in. She glanced at John's suitcases and then at Sherlock, sitting naked on the floor. "Oh Sherlock." She said affectionately, grabbing the blanket off the back of John's chair and stepping over to put it around him. "What happened dear?"

"It's fine Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock responded, pulling the blanket closer around himself.

"Sherlock, what happened?" Mrs. Hudson asked sternly.

"John was going to leave me." Sherlock answered miserably.

"Oh dear." Mrs. Hudson put her arm around him and gave him a tight squeeze.

"I asked him to stay and we had sex."

"Yes, I heard you. Please remember the walls aren't very thick. I have told you before."

"Of course Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock nodded. "Heat of the moment and all that."

"Yes, I understand. So where is John now?"

"Gone out to the pub." Sherlock told her bitterly.

"Why? What did you do?"

"What makes you think I did something?" Sherlock asked raising his eyebrow, taking offense.

"Well it's not like him to rush off after sex unless you get one of your cases." Sherlock gaped at her for a moment. "Thin walls dear, remember. I've had to invest in a sleeping machine, the way you two carry on some nights. It seems John has quite a bit of stamina on him."

"Yes, he does at that."

Mrs. Hudson smiled at him and waited expectantly. Sherlock sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

"I asked John to marry me."

"Oh you idiot." Mrs. Hudson scolded him, smacking him upside the head.

"What?" Sherlock stared at her, taken aback. "What?"

"You don't propose to someone like that. You don't propose as a last effort when things are going wrong. You propose when you're both blissfully happy and can't imagine life being better."

"I had my reasons…"

"They were stupid reasons." Mrs. Hudson frowned at him. "Now you go after that doctor of yours and tell him you take it back, that all you want is for him to stay."

"No." Sherlock replied petulantly.

"Sherlock Holmes, you go find him this second and put some clothes on or you'll scandalize the neighborhood."

"No." Sherlock repeated, looking away.

"Fine." Mrs. Hudson gave up, getting to her feet and leaving Sherlock dejected on the floor. "You stay right there and let the best thing that's ever happened to you slip through your fingers. Lord only knows how he puts up with you."

Mrs. Hudson threw her hands up in surrender and stalked out, slamming the door behind her. It was getting to be a habit with people. And to think people called Sherlock overdramatic. Sherlock glanced over at John's bags by the door, feeling as if they were mocking him. He didn't like to think about how close John had gotten to leaving.

He let the blanket fall to the floor as he stood and went over to collect them. He took them back into their shared room and began unpacking. John had taken most of his clothes, his gun and a bag of toiletries. It would be enough not to come back for a very long time and even then, just to collect the last of his things. It made Sherlock shudder and he unpacked everything quickly, putting it back in its proper place. 

When everything was put away, Sherlock got dressed. He had been planning on putting on his pyjamas but instead he dressed in the shirt John had said he liked best of Sherlock's and a pair of trousers. He couldn't let John be alone too long. What if every moment he was down at the pub was a moment he decided that he had been right in leaving?

Sherlock put on his socks and shoes quickly before grabbing his coat and racing out the door. He hailed a taxi and drummed his fingers against his leg, feeling agitated and unsettled. He'd feel better once he'd seen John. John always had a comforting effect. He threw money and was out the door before the cab even came to a full stop.

John was sitting at the bar, watching a replay of a football match on the telly. The moment Sherlock saw him, the ache in his chest lessened. John didn't look at him until he eased onto the stool next to him. John glanced down at his watch. "Twenty-six minutes." John said, reaching into his wallet and handing a fiver over to the bartender. "I bet it would take you less than ten."

"John, we don't have to get married." Sherlock blurted out. "It's come to my attention that I may have gone about this the wrong way. I don't need us to get married, I just need you to stay with me, please."

"Jesus." John stared at him in disbelief. "It's not that I don't want to marry you, Sherlock. Just not like that."

"Mrs. Hudson said you shouldn't ask until you're both perfectly happy together."

"She's a smart woman, you should listen to her." John said, taking a sip of his beer.

"I'm not…I've never done this sort of thing before."

"I know that." John said looking at Sherlock fondly. He pushed his fingers into the hair at the back of Sherlock's head and pulled him forward so their foreheads rested together. "I love you, you mad bastard. Do you have any idea how difficult it was for me to pack up all my things? To even think about leaving you was painful and the entire time I was hoping you'd stop me. But that doesn't mean I think we should get married."

"I can think of two hundred and fifty-seven reasons why we should get married."

"What?" John pulled back. "Are you serious?"

"Of course I am." Sherlock ordered a scotch for himself while John stared at him, eyes slightly widened. "What do you think I spent the last twenty-six minutes doing? Well, besides unpacking your things, talking to Mrs. Hudson and getting a cab over here. But as you know I'm very good at multi-tasking."

"Over two hundred reason?" John took a rather large gulp of his pint. "How can there possibly be that many reasons?"

"I told you it was the solution to our problems and it's not as if I never thought about it before tonight." Sherlock told him, taking a small sip of his drink.

John grew silent, apparently thinking that over. He was strangely silent on the taxi ride home. Sherlock kept trying to engage him in conversation but John only responded with one syllable words or grunts. At least when they crawled into bed together, John put his arm around Sherlock and they fell asleep pressed together, with Sherlock having John's body as a reassurance that he was still there.

XXXX

John woke up the next morning to find Sherlock's side of the bed empty and cold. This wasn't unusual, especially not for John's day off. Sherlock usually left to allow John a bit of a lie-in, never indulging in one himself. John assumed Sherlock found the simple act of sleeping in quite boring since he could hardly keep a regular sleep schedule. The only reason this had somewhat been achieved was that he liked going to bed at the same time as John so they could cuddle a bit before they drifted off.

What was unusual were the papers on Sherlock's pillow, stapled together. There was tea and toast on the nightstand and John sat up, wondering just what was going on. He started by taking a sip of tea, feeling that was really the best start to the day. Then he grabbed the papers and looked them over as he nibbled on his toast.

Sherlock had been kind enough to put a giant heading on the papers so John knew exactly what they were. "257 reasons we should get married" it was titled and John groaned. He flipped through and saw that indeed, Sherlock had typed up all 257 of them. John blinked a few times and took another sip of tea before he began to read.

The list was very…thorough. Sherlock didn't do anything by halves so the list encompassed pretty much anything John could think of.

Some of them were practical.

7\. If one of us is injured and in the hospital, we would be allowed into the room as each other's spouses. As it stands now, neither of us have that right.

25\. We could get a joint bank account so you wouldn't have to worry about funds anymore. This would also make when you do the shopping much easier. Less of a chance of rows with chip and pin machines.

138\. We could buy 221B and make it officially our home although I doubt Mrs. Hudson will be kicking us out any time soon.

200\. If we were to decide we wanted to adopt a child, we would be much more likely for consideration if we were married than if we were simply together.

John stopped for a bit to think over that last one. He hadn't even known kids were on Sherlock's radar, let alone that he might want one. It wasn't exactly something they had talked about. John made a mental note to ask Sherlock about it later.

Some verged on sentimental:

2\. I would get to call you my husband, which I must admit I quite like the idea of.

88\. You would wear a suit at the ceremony. You look very good in a suit but have so few occasions to wear them.

135\. We would both always have someone to bail us out of jail

199\. We'd get to go away for awhile on our honeymoon. Although I suppose we could just go away for awhile. But people would be less likely to bother us if it were our honeymoon.

207\. You'd be less likely to leave me if we were married.

250\. I would stop worrying about you finding someone better, at least on a daily basis.

Some were quite selfish sounding:

14\. Mycroft would stop pestering me about it (yes he does this when you're not around. No, it's not why I asked)

56\. If you had a ring on your finger, people would be less likely to flirt with you. Especially women. You are annoyingly nice sometimes and encourage them, possibly without realizing it.

149\. Everyone would know that you are beholden to me and that you had given your life to me.

And then finally, the last thing on the list, the one John had been waiting for.

256\. Because we love each other

257\. I want to marry you. (Honestly John, I would have thought these two were obvious)

John smiled and took another sip of his tea, only to realize it had gone cold while he was reading. He placed it back on the nightstand and got out of bed. He found Sherlock sitting in his black leather chair, plucking away at his violin. John made his way over and settled into Sherlock's lap, straddling his thighs. Sherlock put his violin down and placed his hands on John's hips.

"You're an idiot." John said warmly as he cupped Sherlock's face in his hands and brought their lips together. His hands moved to grip Sherlock's shoulders and then finally onto his thick curls as the kiss grew hungrier and deeper. Sherlock finally had to pull away, dropping his head onto the back of his chair.

"So is that a yes then?" Sherlock asked breathlessly.

"No." John shook his head and watched as Sherlock deflated, getting that unbelievably sad look in his eyes. "No, no, no, I just mean that I need to think about it. I'm going to visit my sister in Dublin."  
"But you hate visiting your sister." Sherlock's brow furrowed.

"I know but I need to go somewhere that I won't be under your constant scrutiny. I need to get far enough away that I can think."

"Why can't you think here?" Sherlock asked, visibly pouting, running his hand up and down John's back.

"Because you're going to keep bugging me about it until I give you an answer. It's a big decision Sherlock and not one I'm going to make lightly. If we do this, if we actually do this, it will be for the rest of our lives. It takes some consideration."

Sherlock leaned forward and buried his face in John's neck. John gently stroked his hand through Sherlock's hair, comforting him. "Three days. Just three days, I promise. I can never stand Harry for more than that anyway."

"Okay." Sherlock murmured his consent even though John could tell he was still unhappy about it.

"Okay." John nodded, tugging gently on Sherlock's hair so their lips could meet again.

XXXX

The night before John was set to leave for Dublin, Sherlock held him extra tight, not wanting him to leave. The next morning the air was thick with sadness and awkwardness. Sherlock had checked John's bag several times to be sure he had only packed enough for three days. He couldn't stomach John being gone for longer than that, especially not with his question going unanswered.

"Three days and I'll be back." John promised, giving Sherlock a kiss goodbye at the door.

"Three days." Sherlock tried to smile and wave as John left but didn't quite pull it off. He watched at the window as John got into the taxi and disappeared from sight, a strange churning in his stomach. 

XXXX

The three days John was gone was like torture. Usually when John went away on long trips, Sherlock spent the time lost in his head, making the time go by faster. John tended to be cross with him when he got home, noticing that Sherlock didn't eat or sleep while John was away. This time he thought John would understand.

However he was unable to stay lost because he kept overanalyzing the probability that John would say no. The odds weren't looking good. What Sherlock wouldn't have given for a halfway decent murder. He briefly considered buying cigarettes or even something stronger but he'd been clean for years and didn't want to risk it. Besdies, John would be very cross with him if he came home and realized what Sherlock had done. Instead he was left with nothing to do but wait.

He pulled out his phone every thirty seconds, checking to see if John had sent him something. He had composed over a hundred messages, either asking how John was or begging him to come home, all of them deleted. That seventy-two hours of John's absence felt like a lifetime. Sherlock was restless and irritable and not fit to be around human beings until John returned.

So when he heard the front door open and John's unmistakable footsteps bounding up the stairs, Sherlock was on his feet in an instant. John tore the door open and stopped for a moment, catching his breath, his bag sliding off his shoulder. Sherlock's heart seemed to stop as he held his breath and waited. John crossed the room in a few short strides and captured Sherlock's lips in a searing kiss. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and held him close, taking this to be a very good sign.

John broke away and their eyes locked, momentarily stealing the breath from Sherlock's chest. John's face broke out into a wide smile and he reached up and brushed his thumb over Sherlock's cheekbone.

"Yes." John finally answered the question and Sherlock felt like a two ton brick had been removed from on top of him. "Yes Sherlock, yes. God yes."

"John." Sherlock felt a swell of emotion inside him as he gazed down at the man who would soon be his husband. It finally broke as a giggle escaped his lips. John looked momentarily surprised before joining in. They laughed and kissed with whispered declarations of "I love you" and Sherlock never wanted it to end, realizing that it most likely never would.


	3. Mr. and Mr. Watson-Holmes

Sherlock and John crashed through the door of 221B, hands everywhere and lips joined as they yanked each other towards the bedroom. Sherlock kicked the door closed and then started walking John backwards through the kitchen. "Are we in trouble because I didn't carry you over the threshold?" he asked as he tilted his head to the side to give John better access to his neck. Both had managed to kick their shoes off without stopping to untie their laces.

"Hey, why am I the bride?" John asked indignantly, giving Sherlock's throat a nip.

"You're the one wearing white." Sherlock pointed out.

"Only because you looked rubbish in white with your pale skin. Completely washed you out." John argued, pushing Sherlock through the bedroom door.

"It does look nice with your tan." Sherlock said appraisingly as he captured John's lips again.

John eased onto the bed and inched backwards as Sherlock crawled forward with him. John captured Sherlock's tie in his hands and pulled him forward with it "I can't believe you actually wore a tie for me." He reached the knot and started to loosen it. "Although I did miss you having your shirt unbuttoned, showing off that neck and chest of yours, just begging for lips to be pressed to it."

"Hmm." Sherlock agreed as John slipped the tie off from around his neck. "That's why I never wear them."

"Really?" John quirked an eyebrow. "It has nothing to do with you finding them constricting and annoying?"

"Well that too." Sherlock gripped John by the shoulders and gently eased him down against the pillows. John's legs were spread, knees bent up with Sherlock lying between them. John twisted his fingers up in Sherlock's curls and brought his face down for more kissing.

"It was nice of the criminal classes to take the day off." John said, slipping Sherlock's black suit jacket off his shoulders. Sherlock sat back on his haunches so John could sit up and remove his own tux jacket.

"Let's hope they allow us the same courtesy for the next two weeks."

John stopped midway through unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt. "Two weeks?"

"Oh, right, surprise!" Sherlock said cheerfully. "Wedding gift from Mycroft."

"Blimey, two weeks in Italy, doing nothing but shagging and sightseeing? You'll be bored within three days." John smirked and finished unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt.

"Oh I'm sure you'll find interesting ways to keep me entertained."

"I hope you know Italian because I am rubbish."

"Si! Parlo bene l'italiano." 

"Oh god." John groaned, insanely turned on by hearing Sherlock speak Italian in that voice, especially when it was deep with arousal. He yanked Sherlock's shirt out of his trousers and pulled it off, running his hands down Sherlock's now bare chest. "At least we'll be able to navigate the two weeks in Italy just fine."

"Yes, although I'm afraid it's just the one week in Italy." Sherlock confessed making quick work of the buttons on John's black vest and then doing the same to his black shirt underneath. "Second week Mycroft booked us a hotel in Paris."

"Jesus. He's being awfully generous."

"Yes well, I suppose he's just relieved that this finally happened. He wanted to be sure I got married while mother was still alive."

"Your mother seems fine." John frowned, concern evident on his face.

"Oh you know Mycroft, he worries." Sherlock waved it off, lifting up one of John's legs under the knee and slipping off his dress sock.

"And I suppose you know French as well." John assumed.

"Oui." Sherlock nodded, scooting closer to press his lips against John's, lifting his other leg to remove the other sock.

"Yoohoo." Mrs. Hudson called from sitting room. Sherlock and John both froze, wide-eyed and waited, both secretly praying Mrs. Hudson wouldn't come in. Except they'd left the door wide open so nothing was stopping her. "Sherlock? John? Are you here?"

John winced and waited for the inevitable as Mrs. Hudson's footsteps got closer. "Fuck." He swore under his breath as she appeared in the doorway.

"Oh my." She said, taking in the scene before her. "I'm so sorry to interrupt but there's a bunch of packages arriving, I think they're from well wishers and fans and the like. There's quite a lot of them and I just wondered what you wanted me to do with them."

"Throw them out." Sherlock said dismissively.

"Sherlock!" John scolded.

"Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock said calmly as he got off the bed. "You are free to go through the gifts and take anything you want. We will leave it to your judgment to decide if there is anything that we might need and everything else you can do with as you wish. But right now I really need to fuck my husband, I'm sure you understand."

Sherlock closed the door in her face and locked it, striding back over to the bed. "There is never a cause for rudeness young man but under the current circumstances I will forgive it." Mrs. Hudson called through the door before walking away.

"I am your husband, aren't I?" John mused, a grin playing on his lips. "I suppose it hasn't really hit me yet. But you're my husband."  
"I like the sound of that." Sherlock climbed back onto the bed and sat straddling John's thighs. "Say it again."

"My husband." John said, running his hands over Sherlock's chest.

"Yes." Sherlock leaned forward and John met him halfway, their lips crashing together. "Again." He requested.

"My husband." John murmured against Sherlock's lips.

They removed the remainder of their clothes quickly, their hands frantic to divest each other quickly. They didn't waste much time with foreplay since they'd have two weeks to take their time shagging. Right then they were just desperate to be close.

Sherlock did, however, take the time to work John open while simultaneously sucking him off. He had John's legs thrown over his shoulders as he slipped three fingers inside him. John arched up off the bed, pushing himself deeper into Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock's head bobbed between John's legs, his fingers keeping time as he stretched John open.

"Oh God, I'm good. Come on, come on." John tugged on Sherlock's hair, trying to get him off. He grabbed the lube off the bed and poured some on his fingers, rubbing his hands together to warm it up before reaching down and stroking Sherlock's prick, coating it. He spread his legs as wide as they would go in an offering. "There, now hurry."

Sherlock surged forward and devoured John's lips in a kiss while he gently pushed inside. He pulled back and pushed in again, going further. He did it over and over until there was nowhere left to go. "Oh Christ." John groaned. Sherlock stilled, enjoying the feeling of being buried deep inside John.

"Come on, move you bastard." John growled, reaching down and grabbing Sherlock's arse, encouraging him to start moving.

"Is that any way to talk to your spouse?" Sherlock chastised, pulling out so just the head remained in and then shoving back in with one smooth thrust.

"Lift up my leg." John pleaded and Sherlock crooked his arm under John's knee and brought his leg up towards his chest, his other leg wrapped around Sherlock. He thrust in again and John gasped, clutching at the sheets. "Oh God, that's it. Do it again."

Sherlock obliged, grabbing the headboard for leverage as he slammed back in. "Fuck, Sherlock. More. Harder. Come on."

Sherlock quickened his pace, watching John unravel underneath him as each thrust hit him perfectly. John's hand shot up and clawed at Sherlock's back as a stream of curses spewed from John's lips. John's cock was trapped between them, smacking against his stomach wetly.

"Oh god John, touch yourself I'm close." Sherlock moaned, wanting them to come off at the same time. John dropped his hand down and curled it around his weeping cock, stroking himself in time to Sherlock's thrusts.

"Fuck Sherlock, I'm there, I'm there." John cried out as his vision went white and sparks of pleasure coursed through him. His release spilled onto his hand and stomach. He vaguely heard Sherlock call out his name as his hips stuttered and he emptied himself inside his husband.

John was brought back to himself by the feeling of Sherlock's lips on his. He slowly came out of his blissful state and started kissing him back. "If that's a preview of what this marriage is going to be like, I think we're going to be just fine." John chuckled, still somewhat out of breath.

Sherlock pulled out and grabbed some tissues to clean them up with. The two of them arranged themselves on the bed so they were face to face, arms wrapped around each other, legs entwined. "God, today actually happened. We're really married."

"Yes, you're my husband now John Watson-Holmes." Sherlock kissed him softly.

John chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. "Did you mean what you put on that list about wanting a family?"

"Hm." Sherlock took a moment to contemplate it. "We've never really discussed it and I never exactly pictured myself with children but for some reason with you the idea seems less…alarming."

"So you would potentially want children?"

"I think so." Sherlock nodded. "We could always adopt or perhaps Molly will be our surrogate. I doubt she'll be needing her uterus any time soon."

"Sherlock, we are not asking Molly Hooper to lend us her uterus!" John shouted, rolling his eyes at the uncouthness of his spouse.

"You're right, her social awkwardness might rub off on the child and we wouldn't want that."

"As opposed to you, the social butterfly." John joked, shaking his head.

"I managed to charm you, didn't I?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Yes but that's only because I am very, very patient and you are extremely good in bed."

'Ah." Sherlock smiled. "I'd often wondered."

"Why don't we worry about getting through the honeymoon without killing each other and then we can start to discuss bringing a baby into the mix." John reasoned, stroking the hair at the nape of Sherlock's neck.

"Excellent plan Doctor Watson-Holmes."

"You really like saying our hyphenated names, don't you?" John said with an amused grin.

"Yes." Sherlock admitted freely. "It reminds me that we're joined for the rest of our lives. I'm afraid you're stuck with me now."

"I wouldn't want it any other way, Mr. Watson-Holmes."

"No regrets?"

"None at all."


End file.
